Raise - Betrayal of The Knight Templar Season 2

Chapter 1: One Forbidden Sip

The bass from the club pulsed faintly through the walls, but up here on the private rooftop lounge of Eclipse, everything felt hushed and expensive. Dim golden lights, plush leather seating, and the glittering New York City skyline stretching out like a sea of lights.

I stood near the railing, holding a glass of champagne, my black silk dress hugging my body. The hem brushed my thighs in the warm breeze.

Tonight was meant to celebrate my new junior curator job at a prestigious Manhattan gallery. My best friend, Sophia, had dragged me here, but she’d vanished half an hour ago with some guy, leaving me alone.

I wasn’t used to places like this. My life was small apartments, late-night sketching, and stretching every paycheck. My father had always warned me about men like the ones who owned clubs this exclusive powerful, ruthless, the kind who took without asking.

Then I felt him.

The air changed. Heavy and electric.

“Enjoying the view, little one?”

The voice was deep, smooth with a raspy edge that tightened something low in my stomach. I turned.

He was tall, over six feet, broad shoulders perfectly filling a tailored black shirt. Sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and a sleek silver watch. Dark hair with silver threading the temples, a sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, and steel-gray eyes that pinned me in place.

Damien Blackwood. Forty-two. CEO of Blackwood Holdings. Billionaire. Widower. Ruthless in business and, from what I’d heard, even more so with women. He was my father’s former business partner the man who had once helped fund my dad’s company before their ugly fallout.

The one man I’d been strictly told to avoid.

“I… yes,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I wanted. “The city looks incredible from up here.”

Damien moved closer, his cologne wrapping around me sandalwood, citrus, and something darkly masculine. He leaned against the railing, close enough for me to feel his heat.

“Beautiful?” His gaze stayed on my face but dipped briefly to my lips, then lower, tracing the neckline of my dress. “I wasn’t talking about the skyline.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I’d had boyfriends before clumsy, eager college guys who never quite satisfied me. But this man looked at me like he already knew every sound I’d make when I finally let go.

“Mr. Blackwood,” I managed. I didn’t expect to see you here.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “Damien. And I own the place, Kira. I make it my business to check on what belongs to me.”

My name rolling off his tongue sent a shiver racing down my spine. How did he even remember me? The last time we’d been in the same room, I was eighteen, awkward and hiding behind my father at a charity event.

“You remember me?” I asked, gripping the glass tighter.

He chuckled, low and rough. “Hard to forget the girl who spilled red wine down my favorite suit and offered to dry-clean it herself while turning bright red.”

I winced. “That was years ago. I was clumsy.”

“You were innocent.” His eyes darkened. “Still are, aren’t you? Daddy’s good little girl, trying to make it in the big bad world without his help.”

The mention of my father cooled me for a second, but it only sharpened the forbidden heat building inside me.

“My father and I aren’t exactly close anymore,” I said quietly. I’m doing this on my own.

Damien studied me like I was something rare he was deciding whether to claim. “Admirable. Reckless, but admirable. This city chews up girls like you if they don’t have the right protection.”

The word “protection” sounded filthy coming from him his hands on my waist, his body pressing me down, his voice telling me exactly how he’d take care of me.

“I can take care of myself,” I whispered.

“Can you?” He stepped closer, crowding me against the railing without touching. His height made me feel small, delicate. “Tell me, Kira. When was the last time someone took real care of you? Made you feel like the sweet little thing you are while fucking you so hard you forgot your own name?”

My lips parted on a soft gasp. No one had ever spoken to me like that so blunt, so hungry.

“That’s none of your business,” I breathed, even as my nipples tightened against the silk and heat pooled between my thighs.

Damien’s hand rose slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my skin, sending sparks straight to my core.

“Everything about you is my business tonight,” he murmured. Because I’ve been watching you since you walked in. That dress. Those legs. The way you bite your lip when you’re nervous. You’ve been playing in the shallow end, sweetheart. I’m the deep water you were warned about.

My heart pounded. Part of me knew I should walk away. The good-girl part that remembered every warning about Damien Blackwood.

But the other part the one aching for more than mediocre touches wanted to dive straight in.

“I should find my friend,” I said weakly, not moving an inch.

Damien smiled, amused and predatory. “Sophia left with one of my associates. She’s occupied.” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Which means you’re all mine for the rest of the night… if you want to be.”

His breath was warm, carrying the faint scent of scotch. My thighs pressed together instinctively.

“This is crazy,” I whispered. “You’re old enough to be ”

“Daddy?” he finished, voice dropping to a growl that made my insides clench. “Say it. I want to hear how it sounds from that pretty mouth.”

Heat flooded my face and body. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.

But God, I wanted to.

Damien pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me, his expression a mix of patience and raw lust. “No rush, little one. I’m a very patient man when I see something I really want.” His gaze dragged slowly down my body, possessive. “And right now, I want to find out exactly how sweet you taste.”

He straightened, adjusting his cufflinks as if he hadn’t just set my entire world on fire.

“Think about it,” he said casually. “My private booth is downstairs. Number seven. If you decide good girls can be bad sometimes… come find me.”

Then he walked away, leaving me trembling against the railing, champagne forgotten, thighs slick, and one dangerous thought echoing in my mind:

What if I did?